Billionaire Erotic Romance Boxed Set: 7 Steamy Full-Length Novels

by Priscilla West

  Sophie stared at the back of his neck, the dark hair curling there. Her fingers knotted into a ball. She was anxious and, frankly, a little afraid. She wanted to reach out and touch him, feel the connection that she always felt when they were skin to skin. But his face was so bleak. He would just shrug her off, and she wasn’t sure her poor, pirouetting heart could take that.

  When the last padlock was undone, he pushed open the gate and ushered her inside, closing it behind them. Sophie jerked to a halt, frowning at the sight before her.

  There was nothing. Just an empty dirty lot. This was a prime location on the Upper West Side. A building here could bring Medina Properties a lot of money. But it was empty, and clearly had been for awhile. There was no sign of impending construction. The dirt was packed down, and grass had grown in uneven patches.

  No graffiti or other signs of vandalism or homeless inhabitants littered the lot, surprisingly. Though, she supposed Henry’s company paid for top notch security.

  “Why did you bring me here, Henry?”

  He shoved his hands into his pockets, his gaze intent on the empty lot. “This is where I grew up,” he said finally, his voice a harsh whisper.

  Sophie stumbled back a step in surprise, her wide eyes scanning the barren plot. She hadn’t expected anything like that to come out of Henry’s mouth. “W-what?”

  “When my father moved my mother from Argentina, he brought her here.” He poked at the straggly grass with the toe of his polished Oxford. “It was a very nice building, and a very nice apartment. We lived here until I was six.”

  “That’s when your mother died.” It wasn’t a question. Sophie only had to look at the nearly tortured expression on Henry’s face to guess that whatever he was struggling with, it had something to do with the mother he obviously still mourned, all these years later.

  He turned, his dark eyes meeting hers, and the anguish there took her breath away. “That’s when my mother committed suicide.”

  Sophie pressed her hand to her mouth. “Oh, Henry.” She covered the few steps between them in an instant and touched his hunched shoulder gently. “I’m so sorry.”

  “She was miserable here. She’d given up her acting when she left Argentina, and my father was a very busy man. She was alone.” His voice was almost a whisper when he spoke these last words.

  “She had you.”

  Henry flinched as if she’d struck him. “I was a very boisterous child. Very demanding. I never gave her a moment’s peace.” He spoke as if by rote, and ice filled Sophie’s veins. Those didn’t sound like Henry’s words. It sounded as if he was repeating what someone else had said. Jorge?

  “Henry –”

  “I... It became too much. She took a handful of pills and then just... didn’t wake up.” He stared into the air as if he could still see the apartment building there. Sophie thought he probably could.

  She circled in front of him and slid her arms around his waist, squeezing. “That’s a horrible thing for you to have experienced, especially as a young child. But Henry, surely you know that it wasn’t your fault? Not at all.”

  He still didn’t meet her gaze.

  “After the funeral, my father bought the whole building, evicted everyone, and had it torn down. He refuses to allow anything to be built on this spot.”

  Sophie laid her cheek against Henry’s chest, listened to his heartbeat, her eyes resting on a patch of lush, green grass. She was more than a little surprised by Jorge’s actions. They seemed like behavior of a man who’d genuinely loved his wife. For all he cared about Medina Properties and his legacy, to have such a lucrative piece of land sitting undeveloped... he must have loved Catalina.

  Was his vile, bitter attitude today all because he’d lost his love? Perhaps. Perhaps not. Henry said he’d been very busy before her death, leaving her alone with a young child. Guilt and bitterness could eat away at a person, if you let it. Sophie knew that well.

  Maybe his obsession with his “legacy” and seeing Henry’s future secure was some sort of attempt to honor his dead wife’s memory. If it was, he’d forgotten to take Henry’s happiness into account. Though she didn’t know much about Catalina Flores Medina, she’d bet everything she had that the woman would have wanted to see her son happy.

  Whatever her own struggles, she had clearly loved Henry. That love had marked him, just as surely as her death had. It had helped make him the man he was today. Without the ghost of his mother’s love, Sophie doubted he would have made it through growing up with Jorge.

  You’re killing me, Henry.

  Don’t say that Sophie, you don’t know how much those words hurt me.

  “Henry, what I said on the phone. I—I had no idea. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean it, I was hurt and I didn’t know.”

  Sophie looked up into his face, that strong jaw was tense, his eyes a flat black. She touched his cheek. He pulled his hand from the recesses of his pocket, lifted his clenched fist between them.

  His fingers unfurled, revealing the wilted, bent, bruised blossom of a white poppy. Sophie blinked. Surely, this wasn’t one of the flowers she’d been bringing to him last week, when Nicole had sent her running? She’d thrown those in the trash.

  “I picked it out of the trash,” Henry said softly, as if reading her mind. His eyes met hers, glistening. With unshed tears? His free hand came up to cup her cheek. “I’m afraid, mia bella regazza. I’m terrified that my life, with its demands and complications, that I—with my demands and complications and sheer blindness—will bruise and crush you. Like I’ve done this flower. You...” He cleared his throat, which was thick with emotion. “Sophie, you mean so much to me, and I couldn’t bear it if I broke you.”

  Like he’d broken his mother. He didn’t need to say it, the words were there in the anguish in his eyes. Sophie plucked the flower from his palm and brought it to her nose. Despite its bedraggled appearance, it still smelled faintly sweet. She smiled up at him, stroking his lapel.

  “I am a woman, Henry Medina. Not a delicate flower. I have been through some terrible trials already in my life, and have not been broken. Bent, perhaps. But not broken.” She tucked the flower into his button hole, patting gently. “I was bruised when we met, Henry. And you helped me. Don’t you see? You make me stronger, not weaker.”

  “I’ve hurt you.” His hand went to her waist, squeezed.

  Sophie nodded in acknowledgement. “You have. And yet, here I am. I’m not willing to walk away from what we have just because I might get hurt. Are you going to walk away just because you might hurt me?”

  He studied her face, eyes roving over her lips and chin and forehead, as if he was memorizing every line of her skin. Her heart flipped. Was he going to send her away? Maybe if she pointed out how much that would hurt...

  “No. No, Sophie I’m not going to walk away.”

  Sophie felt the sun rise in her chest, a burst of such fierce joy she thought it must be shining out of her eyes. She pressed her cheek into his palm, nuzzling, her eyes closing.

  Henry chuckled, his thumb stroking along her lower lip. Sophie grinned. Things weren’t perfect. There were still things that had to work out. But knowing that Henry was in it with her, that he wanted this to work too, that made all the difference.

  “I love you, Henry Medina.” She lifted onto tip-toe to reach his lips but Henry pulled slightly back. She frowned. His lips curved in a sensual smile.

  “And I love you, Sophie Becker.”

  Her breath caught in her throat. Henry loved her!

  She threw her arms around his neck. “Well then, Mr. Medina, let’s stop looking at this empty lot and go start living our life together. How does that sound?”

  “Brilliant.”

  Henry’s mouth touched hers, his lips soft and warm and everything she’d ever wanted.

  Epilogue

  “And the insurance papers are in this red folder here. In case of fire, or a flood, or—”

  “Or the Stay-Puft Marshmallow Man, yes I know, Soph!�
�� Darren rolled his eyes, tapping a paper plate tambourine against his thigh. He was being accompanied on various toilet roll bean shakers and wooden blocks by a class of 3 to 5 year olds as they hopped and flailed to the somewhat discordant music they were making themselves.

  This was one of their beginner classes, meant mostly to get the kids interested in music and movement. They only taught the most basic of steps. Most of the time was spent in ‘free dance’, as Darren called it.

  Sophie almost ran back to the office and slipped the bright red folder in among the other color-coordinated files she had arranged beside the phone. She slid her earring in and called through the open classroom door to Darren.

  “I’m putting it just here, beside the phone! Remember, the purple file has all the emergency numbers in it. The yellow is class schedules. Jeanie is on call to help out whenever you need her, all you have to do is give her twenty-four hours notice!” She snatched up her purse and dashed back into the classroom.

  Darren had put a record on the old player and was showing the kids first position.

  “Did you hear me?” Sophie propped a hand on her hip. Darren’s blond brows ticked upward.

  “Red, insurance. Purple, emergency contacts. Yellow, class schedules. Jeanie on call, twenty-four hours notice!” He repeated in time with the music, demonstrating deep bends for the kids. “I’ll be fine, Sophie, I have run the studio before in your absence, you know.”

  She adjusted the scarf draped around her throat. It was silk, a gift from Henry for their anniversary. Henry liked celebrating milestones. And giving her gifts. She stroked the soft fabric between her fingers, smiling.

  “I know, Dar. It’s just... I’ve never gone quite this far away before. You promise to call if anything happens? You know you can reach me day or night.”

  Darren’s smile was indulgent. “Sophie, darling. I love you, but you’re only going to Switzerland for a week. Not a month. Not a year. A week. It’ll be fine here. But in the very, very, very unlikely case that something grave happens, I swear on the head of my unborn child that I will call you.”

  “Good.” A grin split Sophie’s face at his mention of his “unborn child.” Darren and Wayne had finally found a surrogate they liked and had begun the procedures to make a baby. Both men were incredibly excited and Sophie was happy for her friends. Darren shook his head at her grin and sidled a little closer.

  “Speaking of major life events, any indications if Hunky is going to pop the question on this oh-so-romantic vacation?”

  She snorted at Darren’s nickname for Henry. Her best friend had made a surprising turnaround on his hostility toward her gorgeous boyfriend. Then again, Henry had made it his mission to win Darren’s approval. In the end, it had been how happy he was making Sophie that had finally earned him the blond’s acceptance. Now, Darren was lobbying hard for her and Henry to hurry up and get married and have babies.

  The idea made Sophie’s stomach and heart switch places whenever she thought about it.

  “It’s a business trip, not a vacation. Henry has to go check on the progress of the club. I’m just tagging along.”

  “Right.” Darren rolled his eyes again. Sophie ignored him, digging in her purse for her checklist. She needed to double check and make sure she’d done everything she needed to do here. Henry would be here to pick her up and take her to the airport any minute. His private jet would be leaving in a little over two hours.

  “Will you hush with all the marriage and babies talk?” she hissed softly, flicking Darren a quick look. “We are not ready for that yet.”

  That was a half-truth. They’d talked about both in the months since they’d officially started seeing each other. Not in any concrete sort of way, yet. But they had discussed their feelings on both marriage and children. And Sophie knew if Henry did ask on this trip, and a small part of her was hoping he did, she would say yes.

  Fast or not, when it came to spending her life with Henry, Sophie was all for her happily ever after starting now.

  She smiled down at the checklist. Not because it was complete, although it was, but just recalling when she’d written in up, in bed with Henry as they’d made plans for this trip, brought a smile to her face.

  “Kids, shall we wish Miss Sophie good luck?” Darren asked, shaking his paper plate tambourine. The kids all clapped.

  “Good luck, Miss Sophie!”

  “Why we wishing her luck?” one little girl asked, her adorable face scrunching into a confused scowl. A little boy beside her rolled his eyes in an expression that bore a marked resemblance to Darren. Sophie snickered.

  “‘Cause, silly. She’s getting her a husband.”

  Sophie’s snicker trailed off. Darren snorted.

  “Out of the mouths of babes.”

  “Jordan Criss, where did you hear that?” Sophie asked, cheeks pink. The little boy shrugged.

  “Mister Thompson asked if your question got popped. I heard my aunt say that when she got her husband. She said he popped her question.”

  Darren covered his laugh with a cough. “Popped the question, Jordan. Not her. The.”

  The boy’s brow furrowed, but before he could retort, one of the other children gave a loud squeal, dropped her bean shaker and ran for the front window. “Look! It’s a limo! Like the movie stars drive!” She plastered her face against the glass.

  All the other kids abandoned their instruments to crowd against the window and ooh at the car too. “Miss Sophie, is that your husband?”

  Henry stepped out of the limo, looking handsome in a pale grey suit with a powder blue button-down. He wasn’t wearing a tie and the top few buttons of his shirt were undone. He took Sophie’s breath away, still.

  “That’s my boyfriend, yes.” And didn’t that sound surreal enough. Husband? Her stomach swooped like a bird of prey inside her.

  Darren nudged her with an elbow. “You sure it’s just ‘boyfriend’?” She bumped him with her shoulder.

  “Call me if you need me. Don’t forget.”

  “I won’t. Now go. Have fun!”

  Henry was waving to the children when Sophie caught his eye. His grin was broad and handsome, the dimple in his cheek deep and his gaze molten on her. He beckoned her out.

  She brushed a quick kiss on Darren’s cheek and hurried out to meet him.

  “I missed you.” She’d just seen him this morning, but that didn’t make it not true.

  “I missed you, too, Miss Becker.” His hand stroked the small of her back as he bent to brush his lips over her briefly. “Are you ready to fly away to Switzerland with me? You sure you’re going to be able to handle all the boring business stuff I’ve got to do?”

  He held open the car door, his hand extended palm up to help her in. Sophie laid her fingers in his, shivering at the tingle of warmth the touch sent singing up her arm.

  “I’m ready for whatever you’ve got planned, mister.”

  Henry’s eyes glinted, his lips twitching. “That’s very good to hear.”

  Sophie kissed him, pressing her mouth to his and flicking her tongue quickly inside before bending and sliding into the limo. Henry gave a low growl of warning as he tossed a wave over his shoulder to Darren and the children.

  “Watch it, dolce. You’ll get me riled.” He slid into the seat beside her, grinning.

  “And that’s a bad thing?” Sophie fluttered her lashes at him in mock innocence.

  He tugged her into his lap, wrapping his arms around her waist. “Not bad, no. I just want to take my time.”

  “How much time do we have?”

  Henry nuzzled her throat. “As far as I’m concerned? All the time in the world.”

  Sophie chuckled, reaching over to the center console and flipping a switch. The zing of music filled the limo. Grinning, she reached for the buttons of Henry’s shirt. “Hey, Henry?” He inhaled a small breath as she tugged open a button and touched his chest.

  “Yes, Sophie?”

  She slipped her hand into his shirt, pressing
her palm over his heart, her mouth a wide curve of delight.

  “Want to dance?”

  His arms tightened around her. Sophie kissed him, swallowing his laughter.

  The End

  You can find Angela Stephens here::

  http://www.amazon.com/Angela-Stephens/e/B00E9EF9GI

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  The Surrender Series Character Interview #2

  A character interview from Priscilla West’s highly anticipated Surrender Series!

  Vincent, thank you for agreeing to the interview. How are you today?

  I’m great. Just got back from Cape Town, South Africa. Good business. Even better pleasure.

  Let’s talk about that. Pleasure. What pleases you Mr. Sorenson?

  *grins* I met an interesting person on my trip. Someone daring. Brave. Exciting. Smart--but also dumb enough to pinch my nipple in the middle of a business meeting. She was trying to win me as a client for her wealth management firm. Needless to say, she left an impression on me but probably not the one she intended. I’m looking forward to a follow-up meeting. Just with her--without her partner there.

  Can I pinch your nipple?

  Not on the first interview. *winks*

  Shucks. So what else pleases you?

  Surfing, bungee jumping, cliff diving, anything that gives me a thrill. Anything that makes my blood rush to all the right places. Know what I mean?

  Sounds crazy. Especially for someone with your status. CEO. Billionaire. If you don’t mind me saying.

  With risk, comes reward. There’s a thin line between ‘risky’ and ‘irresponsible’ just as there is for ‘confidence’ and ‘arrogance’. I like to ride that line as close as I can without crossing over. I’ve heard other CEOs say they believe in ‘Work hard. Play hard.’ But I don’t believe in that. I mix work and play. That’s what makes me and my company so successful.

  Mixing business with pleasure.